


The Hypocrites

by StarMaamMke



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, NSFW, SMUTTY SMUT, Sex on a piano, pure unadulterated smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 22:17:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12616772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarMaamMke/pseuds/StarMaamMke
Summary: Jim Hopper and Joyce Byers Helicopter Parent their way into a chaperoning position at Will and El's Freshman Spring Fling. Joyce decides she needs alone time with the Chief.Based on a Tumblr prompt. (@starmaammke)





	The Hypocrites

“They hate us,” Joyce Byers groaned from her place behind the punch-bowl. 

Jim Hopper shrugged as he picked up a half-full glass of punch and turned to the wall to surreptitiously slip a bit of amber liquid from a flask into the glass before tucking the flask back into the front pocket of his suit coat. He handed to glass to Joyce, who wrinkled her nose and scoffed, but ultimately took the offering. 

“Little miss Ellie Jay knows she’s on double secret probation after I caught her making out with that damn Wheeler kid. She’s lucky I’m not in the middle of the floor holding a ruler between the two of them.” Hopper turned away once more to mix his drink.

Joyce snorted and took a sip of her punch. “She hates that nickname, by the way - and they were just kissing. What’s the harm? We were doing more than that by 9th Grade.”

Hopper choked on his drink at the memory. “Don’t you dare go and tell her that. It’s bad enough she called me an asshole the other day, I’ll never be able to live down being called a hypocrite.”

“Which you are.”

“Which I am, but I just want her to be a kid for a while. That boy has been sniffing after her since the beginning. It’s not healthy, you know. She didn’t even have time to make friends and figure out her tastes before he insisted that they were ‘meant to be’. I hate it.”

Joyce sighed, they was no arguing with him once he dug his heels in. She was chaperoning out of concern for Will’s safety, not to play Purity Patrol between two kids in love. Then again, perhaps she was going a little overboard with the supervision herself, now that she thought about it. Will would never call her overbearing to her face, but she could see it in his melancholy brown eyes when she announced that she and Hopper had signed up as chaperones for Spring Fling - in that resigned little sigh, and the slump in his thin shoulders. Will wasn’t as vocal with his irritation as El was, but maybe he resented Joyce just as much as El resented Hopper. It was a sobering realization.

“Let’s go for a walk,” she announced.

“What?”

“Everyone is dancing and having a great time, and why do they need someone to dole out punch anyway? It’s not rocket science.”

“We’re supposed to be guarding it so some little punk doesn’t spike it.”

“Hypocrite.”

“I only spiked ours.”

Joyce rolled her eyes and looked around until she made eye contact with Scott Clarke from across the room. She waved at him with a frantic expression, and the slight man immediately made his way across the dance floor to the punch station.

“Something wrong, Mrs. Byers?” he asked, his eyes soft with concern.

“Mr. Clarke, I’m not feeling well. Could the Chief and I step away for a bit so I can get some fresh air?”

Scott nodded. “Of course! I’ll take over.”

Joyce snuck a sly grin at Hopper and pulled at his hand, leading him out a side door and into the hallway.

“You slick little liar,” he teased, wrapping his arms around her from behind and kissing the top of her head. “Where to?”

“The band room.”

Hopper’s arms fell, and Joyce turned to him with a shy smile, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip, her eyes flashing mischievously.

“Seriously?”

“You look so nice in that suit, Hop. Real handsome.” Her cheeks began to burn as she pressed herself against him, and wrapped her arms about his waist. He wasn’t as soft as he had been a year ago; there was solid muscle beneath his formal wear, a fact that she had been intimately aware of for the past six months. 

He brought a hand up to cup her cheek, his thumb tracing her lower lip - she drew a sharp groan from him when she nipped at it with small, white teeth, and then drew it into her mouth. 

“Jesus, woman, we’re at a school function.”

“Like our kids are really going to care if we disappear for a little while.”

Joyce and Hopper were able to access the band room via a bobby pin trick Joyce had picked up from Karen Wheeler years before she had married boring, old Ted. Access accomplished, Joyce turned to Hopper and grabbed two fistfuls of his suit coat, walking backwards as she lead him to the little practice room/director’s office at the far corner. That room was already unlocked, and was furnished with a well-worn plaid armchair, and an upright piano, which was all the furniture the tight spaced really allowed for. 

“Just like old times,” Hopper remarked, flopping onto the armchair. “Come here,” he beckoned, slapping his knees two times and grinning up at her. Joyce shook her head and laughed.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she teased before sitting at the piano bench and opening the fallboard to reveal the keys. Joyce cracked her knuckles and began to play ‘Flight of the Bumblebee’. She heard Hopper jump from his seat, and she quickly moved her hands away as he closed the fallboard in a quick, jerking motion.

“What are you doing? Someone is going to hear us!” he hissed, laughter threatening to ruin his scolding tone. He gave into the impulse as Joyce’s musical giggle broke the tension in the air, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she covered her mouth to stifle the sound of her mirth. He sat next to her and gently wrapped one big hand around her delicate wrist to lower the impediment to her soft mouth before brushing his lips against hers. 

The gentle kiss quickly turned deep and desperate as she sighed and parted her lips to accept his tongue, and soon she was on his lap, the two of them breathless and grasping at each other’s clothing. Hopper pushed the straps of Joyce’s dress down so he could kiss the bare skin of her neck and shoulders, and Joyce felt her nerve-endings go haywire and the feel of his rough beard bristling against her sensitive skin. 

“Hmmm…” she sighed as she ground her hips against him. She could feel his hardness press insistently against her thigh with each torturous movement, as they generated delicious, tingling friction between her legs. 

“Fucking Christ, you are a wonder,” he growled against her ear before drawing the little lobe between his teeth, nipping and sucking at it. Joyce could almost see stars as electricity shot from her brain and settled in her throbbing center. 

Trousers and underthings were discarded, and Joyce’s black dress was rucked up at her waist as Hopper pushed her up against the piano, wrapped her legs around his waist and pushed inside of her tight, wet warmth. She sank her teeth against his shoulder as he filled her with an almost painful fullness. She had one elbow resting on the top of the piano, and one hand under his shirt, grasping at his hip as she moaned and writhed with each increasingly powerful thrust. She nearly screamed as she reached the precipice, and he placed one hand over her mouth to muffle her desperate cries as she came crashing down. 

“I’ll never get tired of this,” he grunted as his powerful frame begin to shake. She knew he was close by the inelegance of his thrusts, and the raggedness of his breathing. She lifted one leg higher up his back in order to allow him to thrust deeper, and urged him to go harder against her, to just let go. The new angle, coupled with her encouraging dirty talk caused him to finally lose control. He came hard, rocking against her in a series of slow but hard thrusts. 

Hopper collapsed onto the piano bench with Joyce in his lap, still buried inside of her as they allowed their bodies and breathing to calm. She kissed him, lazy and slow, before resting her forehead against his. 

“We are much,  _much_  better at this then we were in High School,” he chuckled, before his eyes widened and he straightened up. “Shit! We need to get back to the kids.” The look on his face told Joyce that he was assuming the worst about his adopted daughter and the Wheeler boy being unsupervised for all of thirty minutes.

Joyce snorted and crawled from his lap, bending low to search for her panties. “Hypocrite.”


End file.
